


when life gives you lemonade...

by CoffeeKristin



Category: Hockey RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 10:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11056617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeKristin/pseuds/CoffeeKristin
Summary: Holy shit. Jonny’s in love with Patrick. He’s in love with Patrick and he’s wooing him with rosemary-infused balsamic lemonade.





	when life gives you lemonade...

**Author's Note:**

> For the [Blackhawks Summer Fic Fest 2017 Game 2: One Word Prompts](http://coffeekristin.tumblr.com/post/161148669593/blackhawks-summer-fic-fest-2017) for the prompt word: lemonade.

It’s always hotter than he expects in Winnipeg. 

Whether it’s the fact that until he and Jonny started doing whatever they’re doing, Patrick hadn’t spent a second in Winnipeg outside of the regular season, or that he’s mocked Jonny about being from “Winterpeg” for years, somehow Patrick always thinks it’s going to be cold. And during the season, Winnipeg is a city of icy winds and bitter cold, easily earning its nickname.

But in the summer, on Lake of the Woods, it’s fucking hot.

“You doing okay?” Jonny asks from the captain’s chair. He’s wearing nothing but board shorts and even though it’s only early July, he’s already tanned to a deep brown color. He’s gorgeous, and if Patrick didn’t feel like he was melting, he’d probably be up for something fun like licking up the bead of sweat making it’s way down Jonny’s neck. “Earth to Patrick. You okay?”

As it is, though, Patrick’s too hot to do anything more than shrug. “I’m fine. Just watching you bake in the sun. Do you _ever_ put on sunscreen?”

“Yes, Mom, I put on SPF 30 every few hours,” Jonny says. “Not my fault I never burn.”

“You suck,” Patrick replies, slumping in his seat at the reminder of his fair skin. He’s safely tucked under the canopy but he knows by now that that won’t protect him from the sun. He got the most painful sunburn of his life two years ago on this very boat, despite never leaving the shade.

“I do,” Jonny leers, licking his lips obscenely and making Patrick snort.

“Ugh, stop making that face. Why am I attracted to you again?” Patrick asks with a put-upon sigh.

“Because you have good taste.” Jonny stands up and stretches, abs tightening. His shorts slip low enough that if Patrick wasn’t already intimately familiar with Jonny’s manscaping tendencies, he’d be getting quite an education. 

Patrick lets himself enjoy the obvious show Jonny’s putting on, his body at its peak right now; tanned and with more heft to his muscles than he usually has, without the whip-cord look that he tends to take on when he’s started his pre-season regimen. He thinks again about starting something, but he’s still so damned hot, he just can’t make himself move.

“Seriously, though,” Jonny asks, walking over and tipping Patrick’s face up with one finger. “You’re beat red.”

“I’m hot,” Patrick admits. “It’s really fucking hot.”

“It is,” Jonny agrees, looking down at him. “Want to go for a swim?”

“Sure.” The water’s a deep, dark blue on the part of the lake where they’ve ended up floating, untethered and mostly alone out other than an occasional passing boat. It looks cold and delicious, and it spurs Patrick to find the energy to push out of his chair, but he wobbles a little, making the boat rock.

“Whoa, take it easy, Peeks,” Jonny says, grabbing him by the hips. He looks at Patrick closely. “I think you’re dehydrated. When’s the last time you drank anything?”

“I had a beer about an hour ago,” Patrick says a little crossly, because honestly, Jonny’s his... his… his _whatever;_ he’s definitely not Patrick’s mother. 

“Okay, then, when’s the last time you drank something that _didn’t_ contain alcohol,” Jonny asks.

“Uh,” Patrick has to think about it. He’d brought a water bottle on the boat but he’d finished it at least two hours ago. “Before I put on sunscreen, I think?”

“That was ninety minutes ago, dumbass,” Jonny says. 

“Are you keeping track of when I put on sunscreen, you loser?”

“Only so I don’t have to listen to you bitch about your sunburn,” Jonny replies. “Now sit.”

“Fine.” Patrick agrees because suddenly he feels like he’s in a fog, and standing is becoming more effort than it’s worth. He sits back on the bench under the canopy, out of the sun, and watches Jonny grab a towel and dip it into the water in the cooler, barely wringing out the excess before he hands it Patrick.. 

“Put this around your neck,” Jonny instructs and Patrick makes a face but obeys. The shock of the cold against his neck shakes him out of his fog a little. He pulls the edges of the towel over his shoulders and enjoys the cool trickles over his torso. He’s feeling a lot more clear-headed when Jonny hands him a red cup.

Patrick takes a sip, and makes a noise of surprise when it tastes sweet. “This isn’t water, it’s lemonade!” He takes another sip. “And it’s really good.”

“It’s just some recipe I made this morning,” Jonny says, aiming for offhanded and missing by a mile. He’s shifting on his feet a little nervously. “You need electrolytes and it’s the best I can do right now.”

“You made lemonade,” Patrick says, eyeing Jonny. “Why?”

“I just saw a great recipe!” Jonny says defensively, then looks horrified with himself.

“Uh huh,” Patrick says, watching Jonny look away, embarrassed. Jonny’s too tan to really turn red, but Patrick would bet he’s blushing. “Where did you see a recipe for lemonade, Jon?”

“Pinterest,” Jonny admits with a sigh. “Shut up and drink it.” 

_“Pinterest,”_ Patrick mouths, cocking an eyebrow at him. He doesn’t chirp him further, just takes another sip from the cup. It’s delicious, sweet and tart, and has a kick to it that tells him it’s got carbonation in it. He makes a noise of pleasure and takes a longer drink, his eyes slipping shut at how good it tastes. When he opens them, Jonny’s watching him nervously.

“Is it okay?”

“Is it okay?” Patrick licks his lips and shivers as the tartness reacts on his palate. “It’s fucking amazing, Jon.”

“Oh,” Jonny looks away, always as embarrassed as he is pleased when Patrick compliments him. “Glad you like it.”

“Best lemonade I’ve ever tasted,” Patrick says honestly. There’s a pleasantly subtle taste to the lemonade that he can’t put his finger on. When he takes his next sip, Patrick lets the cool, tart liquid linger on his palate as tries to place it. “Is there rosemary in this?” He sips again, delighted. “There is! You put rosemary in lemonade?”

“You can taste it?” Jonny grins, pleased. “Yep, it’s rosemary-infused.”

“It’s delicious. And how’d you get it so tart?” It’s tart enough that it’s making Patrick’s jaw

“I added a little of that lemon balsamic vinegar we had on the chicken last night. And club soda because I know how much you like carbonated drinks.” Jonny frowns. “Even though they’re bad for you.”

“Well this isn’t bad for me, this is fucking awesome,” Patrick says, holding his cup out, unwilling to get into another argument with Jonny about the evils of Diet Coke. “More?”

Jonny pours them both a glass this time, and sits next to Patrick as they drink their lemonade and by the time he finishes his second glass, Patrick’s feeling a lot better. He doesn’t protest when Jonny re-applies his sunscreen, content to listen to Jonny harp at him to be take better care of himself. It doesn’t hurt that Jonny treats sunscreen application like a massage.

When he’s finally done rubbing the SPF-100 that Patrick has to wear into his shoulders, Jonny smears a little on his nose and sprays himself lightly with the organic stuff he uses. Patrick’s feeling like himself again, capable of standing on his own, but he doesn’t mind when Jonny pulls him up manhandles him to the side of the boat.

“You okay to swim or do you want a life jacket?” Jonny asks seriously, as though Patrick didn’t grow up on Lake Erie.

“Fuck you, life jacket,” Patrick says, hip-checking Jonny out of the way before stepping onto the bench and leaping over the side.

He lands feet-first and hitting the water is like plunging into an ice bath. He has to fight not to scream as his body reacts to the cold, kicking a few times to send himself back to the surface.

He’s wiping water out of his face when Jonny surfaces next to him, and suddenly Patrick needs to be closer to him. He swims closer and grabs Jonny’s shoulders, making Jonny take all his weight. Jonny grunts a little but manages to keep them afloat, grumbling as he treads water, but he’s grinning as he complains, a familiar expression of exasperated fondness on his face.

Only… something’s different today. Has been all trip, now that Patrick thinks about it.

Patrick takes a long moment to look at Jonny. Jonny’s entire attention is on Patrick, eyes drifting over his face like he’s looking for something, forehead crinkled. It’s concerned and focused and fond. He’s been unusually attentive since Patrick arrived a week ago, solicitous of Patrick’s needs and wants, hasn’t insisted on fishing much, always makes sure the wifi is working so Patrick can keep in touch with his sisters, never complaining when Patrick wants to curl up on the couch and watch a vintage Stanley Cup Final game instead of going canoeing or hiking. Taking Patrick to burger joints and even making sure there’s cold diet soda in the fridge.

And then there’s today. Jonny’s obvious worry for Patrick’s well-being, the care he’s taken to make sure Patrick’s not getting heat-stroke or sunburn… it’s making Patrick think things he’s never let himself think before. Hope for things he’s never let himself hope for, until now. Because the way Jonny’s looking at Patrick isn’t just with his usual fondness.

He’s looking at Patrick with _love._

Holy shit. Jonny’s in love with Patrick. He’s in love with Patrick and he’s wooing him with rosemary-infused balsamic lemonade.

“Peeks?” Jonny asks, concerned again when Patrick just looks at him, mouth opening and closing. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m good,” Patrick croaks, his throat suddenly thick with emotion. And he is, but it’s also not true, because he’s suddenly so fucking happy. His face must change because now Jonny’s looking at him funny.

“I think maybe you do have heat stroke,” Jonny says, frown deepening, “because you’re acting really fucking odd.”

“I’m just happy,” Patrick admits, smile so wide it makes his cheeks ache a little. “I’m really fucking happy.”

“Oh,” Jonny says a little tentatively, although there’s a grin growing on his face. “That’s — I’m glad.”

“You make me happy,” Patrick reiterates, just in case Jonny was missing the point. “This, being here with you, drinking fucking homemade, probably organic, rosemary lemonade on your stupid boat, in the middle of ridiculously hot Winterpeg. It makes me happy.”

“Wow,” Jonny says, biting his lip like he’s trying to keep his smile under control. “If I’d thought you’d have this reaction to squeezing a few lemons, I’d have done it a long time ago.”

“Mmm,” Patrick says, leaning in to kiss Jonny. It’s awkward, because Jonny’s moving enough as he treads water that they mostly knock teeth. “Ugh, can we take this somewhere slightly more romantic? And less cold.”

“So demanding,” Jonny mock-sighs, but he obediently releases Patrick and leads them over to the boat. He climbs onto the swim platform next to the engine and grabs Patrick’s arm to him up and out of the water in one motion. Patrick uses the momentum to knock Jonny flat on the platform, which submerges slightly under their combined weight.

“Wanna be yours,” Patrick says between kisses. “Wanna wake up with you and complain about you to my sisters and buy a house with you. Fight with you about toothpaste and sides of the bed. Want you to be _mine._ Want to say I love you every night before we fall asleep. Want everything.”

“Peeks,” Jonny says when Patrick’s done kissing him. “I’ve always been yours.” He kisses him again, sweetly, deeply for long, slow minutes, the only sound he lapping of the waves against the boat. When they finally part, Jonny’s panting a little, and grinning like he just won another Cup. “I can’t believe all it took for you to finally figure out how I feel about you was making some lemonade.”

“Sometimes when life gives you lemonade…” Patrick grins. “Now let's get this boat in gear so we can have _“I’m in love with this moron”_ sex in the air conditioned comfort of your palatial cabin.”

“I like the sound of most of that,” Jonny laughs. He stands up and pulls Patrick into his arms again. “And just for the record, I’m in love with you, too, _moron.”_

“Well, I certainly hope you don’t go around making lemonade for just _anyone,”_ Patrick says archly.

“Only for you, babe,” Jonny’s smile lights up his face. “Only for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Rosemary Balsamic Lemonade
> 
> For the Syrup  
> 1 1/2 cups water  
> 1 cup sugar  
> 1 to 2 large sprigs rosemary  
> In a small saucepan, bring 2 cups water to a boil; add rosemary sprigs.  
> Reduce heat; simmer, covered, for about 10 minutes.  
> Remove from heat and let cool for at least an hour.  
> Strain the cooled syrup to remove rosemary sprigs.
> 
> Add to the cooled syrup:  
> 6 lemons, juiced  
> 2 tablespoons of lemon white balsamic vinegar (optional)  
> 5 cups water (substitute club soda for some of the water to if desired)
> 
> Garnish with rosemary sprigs and serve over ice.


End file.
